


A Pond Family Christmas

by amo_amare



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amo_amare/pseuds/amo_amare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Amy really wants is a Christmas with her <i>entire</i> family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pond Family Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavendergaia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendergaia/gifts).



> Written for the dwsanta fic exchange at LJ, for lavendergaia, who wanted "all the domesticity for Amy & Rory".

It’s the best time of night: all three of the children are in bed asleep, and the house is completely still. He can hear Ian and Danny snoring quietly in their beds, but after he gently closes their door behind him, all is quiet.

On his way down the hall, he stops to look in on April just one last time: to make sure she’s really asleep, and not just lying quietly, waiting for the moment his head hits the pillow to let loose with a torrent of screaming. She’s gotten him with that trick more than once this week. He eases her door open carefully, minding the floorboard that squeaks, and peers into the soft pastel warmth of the nursery.

His baby girl is most definitely sleeping. He can tell because she sleeps just like her mother: limbs sprawling, blankets scattered--one chubby arm is flung across her face. He closes her door with a smile and makes his way down to his own bedroom, where Amy is waiting.

She’s standing by their bed, silhouetted against the window as she finishes placing bows on gifts. Rory moves up behind her and places his arms around her waist. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Claus. Are these the last of the presents?”

“Mm hmm...” She’s concentrating hard on making a bow out of some silver ribbon.

He buries his face into her neck and smiles against her. “Are you sure?”

She spins around fast and swats him. “Watch it, Santa! It’s not too late for you to get coal...” Her voice is stern, but he catches the smile in her eyes.

In a bid to be more organized and avoid the shops during the mad dash of the Christmas rush, Amy had finished most of her shopping early. With Ian old enough to have his suspicions about Father Christmas, she wanted to do an extra good job of hiding the presents. They didn’t need a repeat of Daniel’s fifth birthday, when his older brother had found all his presents a week early and told him exactly what he was getting. Seven days of a five year-old’s anxious anticipation of a new train set had been more than the family could take. So for Christmas, Amy got creative about her hiding places.

A little too creative, it turned out: when she went to start wrapping everything a week earlier, there were a few hiding spots she couldn’t quite recall. Even if they could afford to buy everything over again, all the shops were sold out of the very specific action man Ian had his heart set on, and that fluffy pink sweater Rory’s auntie knitted for April was one-of-a-kind. After a week of surreptitiously tearing the house apart whenever the children weren’t looking, she’d _finally_ found everything.

“So what was the final hiding spot?” Rory’s wrapped himself around her again, leaning against her as much out of fatigue as affection.

“Oh, um,” Amy’s sticking tags onto the presents now, writing out her children’s names in a broad, child-like scrawl in an attempt to disguise her handwriting. “I hid the DVDs in the crawl space under the house.”

Rory chuckles into her hair. “Whatever made you think of hiding them there? The last time we went anywhere near that space, there was a family of angry badgers taking up residence. Or perhaps that was the point--guard badgers! Am I right?” He’s waiting for Amy to laugh with him, or to turn around and give him a smile.

Instead she wriggles her way out of his grasp and continues without looking up. “Yeah, well, next year _you_ can handle the gifts, then.”

Standing back to regard his wife and her sudden change of mood, Rory frowns. Something’s wrong. Sure, Amy can be pushed too far when it comes to teasing, but her sense of humor isn’t normally _this_ bad. They’ve been laughing about her misadventures with the Christmas gifts for the better part of the week.

“What’s the matter, Amy?”

“Nothing. No, I’m fine.” She makes an attempt at a smile before going back to fussing with the gifts. Rory can’t help but notice that there’s nothing left to be done with them, and she’s just arranging and re-arranging them on the bed now.

One look at her face is all he needs to tell him what’s wrong. It’s what’s wrong _every_ Christmas--and birthday, and New Year’s, and Easter, and bank holiday...

“Amy, they’ll be here if they can.”

She doesn’t look up at him. Instead, she’s decided to re-do the bow on a large red package that appears to be a shirt box. A quick peek on the tag confirms who it’s for. “I know that,” Amy snaps, and then pushes the box aside, as if she’ll push its recipient out of her mind as well.

Rory makes another go of it. “Time travel isn’t quite the exacting science he makes it out to be, you know. Remember when they came for Danny’s ‘first birthday party’? When he was actually turning two?”

Amy sighs. “Yes, I remember.”

“Or during our family picnic last summer, when he just ‘popped off’ for ice cream from some unpronounceable planet and ended up being gone a week?”

This time the whisper of a smile crosses her lips. “We _did_ get to have River to ourselves for an entire week then...”

Rory smiles back at her, tilting down so he can peer into her face as she leans over the bed. “We did...a rather nervous, irritable River with a sudden passion for spousal homicide...”

Finally she grins back at him. “Who knew there were so many ways to kill someone with a bow tie?”

Rory laughs. “Our daughter, apparently!”

At the sound of that word, her eyes turn sad again. Suddenly she needs to be busy again, and starts stacking the wrapped gifts into a laundry basket to carry down to the tree. She’s not looking at Rory when she speaks again. “I just wish I knew if she were coming tomorrow: just yes or no, that’s all. _That’s_ the hardest part--never knowing when I’ll see her, not being able to pick up a phone and call her...”

Finding the right words with Amy is never easy. She sees right through platitudes and kind, well-meaning lies. She might be desperate for comfort, but that doesn’t mean she’ll take it.

When he doesn’t answer her right away, she stops what she’s doing to sneak a glance at his face. She knows that he feels the same way, but he’s doing his best to move past it for her sake. So she’s the one to offer comfort instead, opening her arms and running her hands through his soft, scruffy hair: at nearly 35, he still hasn’t learned to keep it from sticking up all over the place.

“Well,” she whispers into his shoulder, “I suppose we’ll just have to be thankful that wherever they are, they’re together--getting into trouble and getting out of it like they always do. And we have plenty of family right here to keep us company.”

Rory plants a soft kiss on her neck. “Exactly what I was going to say.”

*****

There isn’t much time to worry about the Doctor and River come morning. Ian is the first to wake up, and he soon has his little brother dragged up and out of the bed. The sound of their hurried feet racing down the hallway wakes up April, whose insistent cries of “Ma! Da! Up!” carried over the baby monitor have her parents groaning and wincing into their pillows.

“Happy Christmas,” Rory greets his wife with a sardonic smile.

Amy just moans and attempts to bury herself deeper under the duvet. She has about 15 more seconds of warmth and peace before the bodies of her two exuberant little boys land on top of her in a flying leap.

“Mum! Dad! Father Christmas has come! Hurry!” They bounce up and down on the bed a few times, before running off to climb through the parcels that have been piled under the tree.

Rory sighs and turns toward his wife, reaching out to pull her into his arms. He stops when he sees the look on her face as she stares out their bedroom window.

“Amy...”

“I know!” She punctuates her statement with a pillow tossed at his head.

The bed dips as she swings her legs over the side and pushes herself up onto her feet. He can hear her soft footsteps padding down the hall and into their daughter’s room, and over the monitor he can hear the baby’s cries of distress turn to delight when her mother’s face appears. “All right, ya wee banshee: up ya get!”

By the time he’s dragged himself out of bed, Amy’s joined the boys in the front hall by the tree. “Ian, drop it! Not another shake! No one’s unwrapping _anything_ until I’ve had a proper cup of tea...”

Rory smiles, and goes to put the kettle on.

***

There isn’t much that could distract a pair of young boys from their new Christmas bounty. The sound of the TARDIS was just barely enough to do it.

No sooner did the tea kettle start to whistle than they could hear the _vworp, vworp_ of the old girl’s engines as she materialized in the back garden.

“Auntie River! Uncle Doctor!”

Before Rory could stop them, both boys shot out the back door and into the damp winter morning wearing nothing but superhero pyjamas and bare feet. Their mother soon followed, wearing very little more.

Amy’s smile rivalled those of her sons when they’d first woken to find their gifts under the tree. “They’re here!” She paused only long enough to hand Rory his daughter before racing out the door after her other children.

April bounced giddily in his arms, clapping her hands and gesturing at the door through which her mother had disappeared. “Yes,” he answered her silent insistence. “I do believe we should follow them.”

The scene that greeted him in his back garden would have made the perfect picture postcard: two pyjama-clad little boys and their fuzzy-robed mother dancing around a bright blue box set down amidst the frost-covered foliage. The Doctor and River were dressed for a story book Christmas, he in a Santa hat and coat, and she wearing a long white cloak trimmed in feathers. They were barely outside before they were set upon by the three most excitable members of the family.

Amy threw her arms around River first. The two women laughed and hugged until River spotted Rory over her mother’s shoulder. “Come here, Dad!”

Rory closed the distance between them in a few quick strides and embraced her warmly with his one free arm. When they pulled apart, River turned her attention to April, who was staring at her with wide green eyes.

“This can’t be my baby sister! She’s so big! How old are you now, darling?”

She didn’t get an answer before she was tackled by her brothers. “Auntie River, we missed you!” Though she called their mum “Mum” and their dad “Dad”, the boys were still too young to wrap their brains around the idea that this woman, older than their parents, was actually their sister. Calling her “Auntie River” was a neat way to sidestep complicated explanations, and deflect the curiosity of any casual passers-by.

Amy turned her back on the scene of all four of her children getting reacquainted. “Come here, you!” she called to the Doctor, who was fussing with a giant, fuzzy white beard that refused to stay attached to his face.

“Amy!” he called happily. “How’s my old mother-in-law, then?”

In a flash, she pulled back and snapped the loops of elastic that hooked over his ears and secured his beard. “Oy, watch it, you!” she glared. The animosity didn’t last long: she pulled him into a tight embrace, whispered “I’ve missed you” in his ear and inelegantly wiped her running nose on his bright red coat.

After the first round of hugs and hellos were doled out, Rory was the first one to notice that they were all standing out in the back garden in their pyjamas and bare feet, and began the task of herding the entire brood back into the house.

He handed April over to River, and shooed everyone toward the lounge to get settled under the Christmas tree. “I’ll just finish making the tea, and then we can start Christmas properly!”

The younger ones, who were now eyeing the mysterious sack the Doctor had dragged in behind him with eager curiosity, were completely amenable to that plan.

*****

Gift opening took place in a mad, chaotic frenzy. It happened that way every year, despite Rory’s plan that presents should be doled out and unwrapped one at a time.

Unsurprisingly, it was Amy’s impatience and enthusiasm that undid Rory’s careful planning. She couldn’t wait to see Ian’s face when he opened his _Star Wars_ Lego set, or the Doctor’s when she gave him the painting of the TARDIS in the sunflowers that she’d made for him, and she was desperate to know if that long, thin box with her name on it was the new easel she’d been hinting around for. April was fussing and needed a steady supply of paper to tear through, Danny was worried that his big brother would get to open more gifts than he would, and Amy was nothing short of desperately curious to know what the Doctor got for River. A measured and leisurely unwrapping of gifts was just not in the cards.

Amidst the noise and confusion, Amy noticed her husband sitting off to the side on the sofa, crammed in beside empty boxes and bags of discarded wrapping, watching the scene in front of him quietly. He had a quiet, wistful look about him, and just the hint of a smile. Amy reached between her two boys, busy exclaiming over a model starship given to them by the Doctor, and plucked a small green package from under the tree. With her prize secured, she waded through the mounds of holiday detritus and climbed across the sofa to curl up next to her husband. There wasn’t much room for her, and she had to squeeze in next to him, half on his lap.

“Hey there, Stupid Face.” The Doctor around always reminded her of old times, and the old term of endearment slipped easily from her tongue. “I’m sorry everything’s such a mess--I know how much you want everyone to take their time, and enjoy the moment as a family.”

He shook his head in response. “I really should know better by now: we’re not that sort of family.” He shot Amy a smile to reassure her that that was all right with him. “Just look at everyone: so happy!”

Amy laid her head on his shoulder and followed his gaze to the scene under the tree. River sat on the floor with the little boys, explaining to them all the parts of the starship and what they did, answering their excited, shouted questions with a smile. The Doctor was playing Peek-a-Boo with April, who’d crawled inside a large cardboard box she was enjoying much more than any of the toys she’d unwrapped.

“Here.” Amy handed Rory the green paper-wrapped box she’d carried with her. “Happy Christmas, you.” She had to stop herself from tearing the box away from him at once when he began to carefully unwrap the gift without tearing the paper or the ribbon.

Rory frowned with curiosity at the little book he’d unwrapped. It was TARDIS blue, with gilt edging. “What’s this, then?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Open it up, stupid!”

On the title page of the book was written the words “Our Story” in Amy’s messy, loopy handwriting. On each page was an illustration: one of their adventures together. There were days with the doctor, from their travels in the TARDIS: silurians and fish vampires, cracks in time and centurions. But there were later days as well: a younger Rory holding their newborn son, he and Amy on their second honeymoon in Turkey before April was born.

He was so absorbed in flipping through the little book, it took him a moment to realize that Amy was watching him: frowning, and biting her lip.

“Do you like it?” she asked nervously.

In answer, he leaned across their tangled legs and kissed her.

*****

The rest of the day passed as uneventfully as a day could when the Doctor was involved. Which is to say there was a good deal of laughing and screaming, a little bit of running, one or two minor kitchen fires, one major power surge (when the Doctor sonicced the telly in hopes of it picking up the Queen’s speech from Starship UK in the year 3031), and a whole lot of Amy alternately threatening her brood with a sharp tongue and a wooden spoon and drawing them close with laughter and hugs.

All too soon she and her husband found themselves alone in their bedroom once again.

Amy had managed to extract from the Doctor and River a promise that they’d stay until the New Year, but she and Rory both knew they’d be lucky if the pair stuck around long enough to help finish off the leftover turkey.

Crawling under the covers and cuddling up to her husband, Amy lay still a moment, just listening to the sound of silence in her house. There were nights that she dreaded that silence: when it kept her awake into the morning hours, mind churning with possibility. She tried to slip out of the bed quietly, and not wake Rory on her frequent trips to check on the children, or to stand out in the back garden, staring up at the stars. Even when she thought she’d managed to escape his notice, she’d come back in from the cold to find a fresh cup of tea waiting for her in the kitchen, fixed just the way she liked it.

There would be no need for midnight wandering tonight: she was perfectly content. With all her family under one roof, sleeping soundly and safe for the night, there was no reason to fear the quiet.


End file.
